Ira Furor Brevis Est
by Ecri
Summary: Sam and the videotape...follows soon after The Black Vera Wang.
1. Default Chapter

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TITLE: Ira Furor Brevis Est

Psuedonym: Ecri

E-mail: ecri@comcast.net

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Category: Episode Related, The Black Vera Wang through Posse Comitatus

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam deals with the fallout from the video.

Spoliers: The Black Vera Wang through Posse Comitatus

Warnings: none

Author's Note: The first page or so is "novelization" of the Sam in the rain scene of _The Black Vera Wang_. Also, the section that begins with the designation "Monday" is something I've taken from a scene from _We Killed Yamamoto_. I intended no disrespect or infringement of any kind. I am making no money. I wrote this for fun and out of my need to see more of the Sam Situation from the end of season three. 

I started writing this right after _The Black Vera Wang_ aired, and I kept writing through _Posse Comitatus_. I finished it just hours before I learned that Rob Lowe is leaving the show. I am more depressed about this than I should be. I thought about rewriting this to reflect Sam's departure, but, since I know nothing about that, I don't think that would be a good idea. 

Thanks to the Seraglio and to Rob Lowe. If you don't know what the Seraglio is, go to www.televisionwithoutpity.com or to **http://seraglio.redi.tk/**

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Ira Furor Brevis Est

Thursday Night

Rain pounded against the windshield, spattering across the glass. Sam Seaborn, White House Deputy Communications Director, sat watching the door of Dupont Tower from across the street in his car. His emotions were raw. What an idiot he'd been! How could he have been so stupid? Distracted by his anger, he almost didn't see Kevin Khan leave the building. 

Sam threw his car door open, and, with long strides, ate up the distance separating him from his friend. _Ex-friend_, he thought bitterly_._ Reaching out a hand, he gripped Kevin's shoulder and spun the startled man around, noting with satisfaction the momentary flicker of fear on the man's face.

"I can't believe you did that!" Sam shouted. Kevin didn't reply so Sam repeated himself louder and shoved Kevin hard enough to leave a bruise. "I can't believe you did that!"

"Go to hell." 

"What happened to"

"What happened with the open mike?"

"It was a mistake!"

"Crap!"

"You said you laughed!"

"You think I laughed?"

"You said"

"You think I laughed!"

"So that's what this is about? The opThat's what this is about!"

"That was my candidate you made a joke out of. Is it gonna happen again? I think it will."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sam took a step forward, his face suddenly hard and cold—his voice low and menacing. "I think it will, too."

Kevin stepped back from Sam, a look of loathing on his face, then turned and walked away.

Sam stared after the retreating figure unsure which he felt more, anger, betrayal, or disgust. His gaze fell taking in the sight of his shoes half-submerged in water. He was standing in water. He moved his left foot across the surface of the puddle, then brought it down hard deliberately into the center. Disgust. Was he disgusted with Kevin or with himself? Was he the betrayed or was he the betrayer? President Bartlet had believed in him. He'd said as much over a game of chess. He'd trusted Sam. Sam had let him down. He had hurt the President's campaign just when it had seemed that they would be able to put the MS scandal behind them 

"Oh, God," Sam whispered again, just as he had in the bullpen when he'd realized what he'd done. His vision blurred just a little, and he wiped angrily at his eyes as he walked back to his car.

**

Bruno Gianelli hated being summoned. Usually, politicians wooed him to join a campaign. Usually, people understood why they needed him on a campaign. He could not recall a single other job he'd ever taken where the staffers refused to listen to a word he said, or, at the very least argued with him for several hours first.

He sighed as he approached Toby Ziegler's office and went inside. "You _summoned_ me?"

Toby looked up from his computer and glared at Bruno. "I wanted to know just what it is you think you're doing."

"Pardon me?"

"I don't think I will." Toby stood, anger propelling him from his seat. "What gives you the idea that you run the Communications Office?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Toby spoke succinctly, his voice growing louder to emphasize his points. "Wonderful! Now you KNOW how the REST OF THE WORLD FEELS when they ask you a STRAIGHTFORWARD QUESTION, and you reply with a STORY about KELP, BOAT RACING, OR P.T. BARNUM!

Bruno stepped forward. "Give it to me in English, Toby."

"I reprimand my staff. Not you. What gives you the right to lay into Sam Seaborn?"

"Sam ignored the advice of everyone in the room. He shot this campaign down in flames before we got off the runway! All because he thought he knew better than I did. This was the biggest mistake of his career!"

"I hope it was! I hope it was. With any luck, he did just make the biggest mistake of his career! Now that it's out of the way, we can get some real work done! That aside, he's my deputy. Not yours." 

Toby moved around his desk to stand toe to toe with Bruno. "I will handle _any and all_ reprimands for _any and all_ of the Communications Staff. That includes Sam, CJand anyone who works in this department. Do I make myself clear?"

"What's your problem? Leo didn't say anything after I had words with Josh."

"I. Don't. Care!

"What makes you think Seaborn is anything special? I'll tell you this for free. If he doesn't toughen up, he won't make it in this town. Hell, he won't make it ON. THIS. PLANET!"

"Keep your insights to yourself."

"I was hired to do a job, here, Toby! I don't care if no one likes me while I do it!"

"Well, thanks for clearing that up because we were about to name you Miss Congeniality!" Toby paused and took a breath wishing it would calm him down. "Now, get out of my office."

Bruno, still fuming, left Toby alone.

**

Sam parked his car in front of his apartment, his mind too full of other things to register what an oddity it was for him to have found a space so easily. Once he'd locked the door, he realized he really didn't feel like going home. He looked up at his dark apartment, then back at his car. With a sigh, he just started to walk.

Sam lost all track of time as he walked. The rain continued to fall, sometimes heavier, sometimes almost slowing to a drizzle. It was just beginning to pick up again, and lightning flashed in the distance. It reminded him of Mrs. Landingham's funeral and the night President Bartlet had revealed his MS to the unsuspecting public. It had rained then, too. As down as he'd been that night, however, it had been different. He hadn't been alone. He'd known that, whatever happened, they would all stand together. Brothers in arms. Facing the music is easier when you have someone by your side.

He winced at the thought of facing the music. He had shied away from such references, verbally and mentally, since Josh had explained about the PTSD. The lingering anger at himself for not helping his friend when he'd needed it most stoked his anger tonight at his own stupidity when dealing with another friend. He picked up his pace, walking as if in a hurry to get somewhere, even though he knew he was going nowhere.

His cell phone rang. Sam yanked it from his pocket and flipped it open. "Seaborn."

"Samit's Josh."

"What do you need, Josh."

"Uhnothing, really. Iit's Amy"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't really have time for this, Josh. I have a few things on my mind." 

"Ohyeah. The" Sam sensed Josh's hesitation, but he didn't feel much like helping him. A passing truck made enough noise speeding through the downpour for Josh to hear it over the phone.

"Are you outside?" Josh made it sound like the most implausible of suggestions.

"I can see how you made it through Harvard, Josh. Nothing gets by you."

"Where are you?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Sam's admission worried Josh.

"You wanna look around?"

"Okay." Sam complied. "Yeah. That didn't help."

Josh ignored the remark. "Sam, you're outside and you don't know where?"

A loud crash of thunder reverberated through the rain soaked DC night, followed by the distant echo of sirens. Sam thought briefly of emergency rooms and prisons. "No. I parked at my place, but decided to take a walk." Suddenly angry that he had automatically explained himself to his old friend, Sam let his emotions seep into his words. "Can I help you with something?" Sarcasm dripped from his words like blood from a wolf's teeth.

"Get in a cab and come to my place."

"No."

"No?"

"Josh, I need to be alone right now."

"I'd feel better about that if you were in your apartment and not wandering around the streets of DC."

"Can't help you there."

"Sam, go home."

"I will."

"Now."

"Okay."

"I'm going to call you later to be sure you made it home."

"Great. I'm hanging up now." Sam disconnected the call without waiting for Josh's reply. Then he turned the phone off and slipped it into his pocket and continued to walk.

** 

Jed Bartlet sat in the Oval Office silently as Leo explained to John Hoynes everything they knew about the videotape. Hoynes sat back taking in all of the information before offering his opinion. "They can't bring criminal charges against Seaborn. There's no evidence."

"That we know of." Leo would take nothing for granted.

This brought Jed back into the conversation. "What are you saying?"

Leo shrugged. "Just that this may not be all there is."

"You think they've planted something?"

"No. I just want to be prepared."

Jed turned to Hoynes. "What do you think?"

Hoynes considered his reply carefully. He knew that Bartlet thought highly of his staff, but he had to be honest. "I think it's bad."

Jed glared at him until he continued.

"Be that as it may, it could be worse, but I doubt they're planning to get Seaborn on charges of criminal conspiracy." 

"What do you think they are planning?" Jed was truly curious.

"I think they got what they wanted. Their ad is running everywhere for free." Hoynes hesitated, but had to ask. "Are you planning a response?"

Jed shook his head. "How do we respond to this?"

Hoynes nodded. "It'll pass, you know."

"Eventually."

"There's just not a lot we can do about it right now."

Jed nodded and stood, holding out his hand for Hoynes to shake it. "Thanks for stopping by, John."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Hoynes waked across the room before turning back to the President and Leo. "It could have been much worse."

Jed shook his head, sitting down once more. "I honestly don't see how." 

**

Sam did catch a cab, but he didn't go home or to Josh's. Instead, he told the cab driver to take him to any big DC landmark. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the cab pulled up in front of the White House.

He paid the driver, staring after the cab as it pulled into traffic. Only when he could no longer see it, did he turn and face the building.

The White House was always impressive, but Sam loved how it looked at night. The lights glistened off the rain, which had almost stopped by now. Sam moved closer to the fence placing his hands on two of the bars and leaning his head on the cool, wet metal. This successfully blocked his peripheral vision so that the White House was all he could see. 

All he could see.

The White House had been all he could see his entire life. He'd come to Washington one summer with his parents. He'd loved the history of the place. He loved what it stood for. He'd never seriously thought about being President until recently when President Bartlet had planted the idea in his head. He had wondered what it might be like to be President, and he had entertained the notion of working for the President. He'd thought about it throughout school. When he'd chosen to go into law, he'd hoped

Sam let out a slow sigh, stopping that thought. What did it matter what he'd hoped? 

He lost track of time as he stood staring at the building that had meant so much to him, and he recalled when Ainsley had used nearly those same words. She'd been upset then. She'd felt crushed by the treatment of people she'd been trying to help. She'd looked like he felt right now. 

His thoughts wandered, and he relived some of the moments that had led him to the White House, moments from the campaign, and moments from the days since President Bartlet's inauguration. 

He remembered the first time he'd met Josh, and how Josh had stared at him in amazement for a moment before reluctantly admitting that Sam was almost as brilliant as Josh himself.

He remembered how Josh had stood dripping in the hall outside the conference room at Gage Whitney.

He remembered CJ's joy as she announced President-elect Bartlet for the first time as he'd taken the stage for his victory speech. She couldn't stop smiling. When the President had finished she'd joined the celebrations, and had even graced Sam with a dance before Toby had stolen her away.

He remembered their first day in the White House when Toby had claimed the former White House Counsel's Offices as the White House Communications Staff Offices. Toby had insisted that it was far more important that he and his staff have easy access to the President and if anyone had a problem with that, he'd be happy to show them just what they could do with that problem.

He remembered how good he'd felt when they had managed to get Roberto Mendoza on the bench.

  
He remembered that, recently, the President had expressed a profound trust and belief in him. He wondered if that were still true.

Between his vivid recollections, his mind would go blank, but he continued to stare at the building, lost in the past.

"Sam? What are you doing here?"

Sam turned slowly, blinking to keep the rain out of his eyes. Rain? When had it started to rain again? "Mr. Vice President?"

Hoynes held his oversized umbrella over the Deputy Communications Director, and leaned closer to him so the younger man could hear him over the sound of the heavy downpour battering the sidewalk. "What are you doing standing in the rain, Seaborn?"

Sam blinked again this time trying to clear his mind. "INothing, sir. I was just"

  
"Where's your car?" Hoynes asked suddenly.

"At my apartment."

Hoynes seemed surprised by that. Gesturing for Sam to follow him, he walked over to his limousine. The Secret Service agent herded the two of them inside. 

Once settled in his seat, Hoynes again turned his attention to Sam. "Sam, what's your address?"

  
Sam mindlessly rattled off the address barely registering the fact that the Vice President seemed to be giving him a lift, as the Vice President passed that information to the driver.

"You want to tell me what's wrong?"

"You probably know already, or you can guess." Sam stared out the window of the car at the rain-obscured streets.

"The tape?"

"See. Good guess. Right, first time."

"Sam, I just met with Leo and the President about that. You want to tell me your side."

"My side? I appreciate what you're saying, sir, but the fact is I was played. I was an idiot. I never saw this coming. Toby, Josh, CJ, Bruno they all saw itor something like it. Not me. I was blind."

Hoynes nodded. "Most people who are blind were actually blinded by something."

Sam intended to laugh, but it came out as more of a derisive snort. "That's probably true."

"What blinded you, Sam?"

Sam turned from the window and looked Hoynes in the eye. "Friendship."

Hoynes let out a long slow breath. "Someone set you up." It wasn't a question.

"I set myself up. I took the bait. I believed the most unbelievable of coincidences. I walked into the noose and kicked the chair away." He spoke quickly, the words tumbling over themselves in an effort to get out of his mouth. He gestured weakly with his hands before dropping them to rest lightly on his knees as if lacking the will to continue.

The Vice President didn't know Sam Seaborn well. They'd only worked together on occasion, but anytime anyone used suicidal references, no matter how benign the supposed intention, it bothered him. He'd lost a friend by ignoring such comments. "Sam, you made a mistake. That's all. You're not the first to discover that, in politics, even friendship is suspect."

"Due respect, sir, this isn't a minor blunder. I may have cost you and the President the election." Sam didn't want to talk. He wasn't even sure he wanted to go home. As he considered how to get out of this conversation, Hoynes began to laugh.

"Sir?" Sam asked curiously.

With some effort, Hoynes got himself under control. Still smiling, he turned his attention on the Deputy Communications Director. "You really think that you just decided the election? You think that this one thing will be the deciding factor come November?"

"The news cycles"

Hoynes waved an impatient hand. "I know about the news cycles, Sam." His smile faded. "The truth is, this was bad." He noticed Sam's gaze drop to the floor. "But it's not the worst I've ever seen. Reelection was never going to be a walk through the park, Sam. Sure it would have been better if this hadn't happened, but I think it's good that it happened when it did."

"I'm not following you, sir." Sam looked Hoynes in the eye unflinching, and obviously wishing he could believe the Vice President's implication—that this would not become the turning point in the President's bid for reelection. 

"If this had to happen, better now than in October."

Sam shook his head. "It's set the tone for the entire campaign. The public is being reminded that The President was less than honest"

"You think most of them forgot? You think most of them were completely convinced that he was nothing but 100% honest _before_ the MS came out?" Hoynes sighed. "I'll give you some truth, Sam. _No one_ on the planet believes that _any_ politician is 100%honest."

Sam dropped his gaze to his shoes. "I did."

Vice President John Hoynes stared for a moment at the profile of a young man who continued to astound him. While it was true he didn't know Sam Seaborn well, it was also true that the young man seemed to find a way to surprise him almost every time they met. That meeting about the Internet Education Act was a case in point. Sam had sat patiently as Hoynes had tried to figure out just what the opposition wanted. When he'd exhausted all options and come right out and asked Sam, the young man had supplied the information. He'd been tactful, supportive, and respectful.

Josh had told him that Sam had even come to the Vice President's defense when he'd found out about the meeting held to consider the possibility of replacing him. 

Now, he sat in the Vice President's limo, dripping wet, having somehow gotten his car home—which Hoynes knew he had seen earlier in the day in the parking lot—while still standing in the rain staring rather forlornly at the White House. 

More amazing than any of that, however, was the fact the Sam Seaborn had just confessed that he had believed, unwaveringly, unquestioningly, in Josiah Bartlet. Hoynes hadn't realized that kind of loyalty still existed. He shook his head. It didn't surprise him, however that, if it did exist, Jed Bartlet had inspired it.

"Sam," he whispered. Anything above a whisper would have seemed wrong. "What I am trying to tell you is that you did not single handedly cost us the election."

Sam tried to read the truth in the man's eyes, surprising Hoynes with the desperation he saw there. Seaborn seemed to want—to need—to believe in something. 

Hoynes let out another long sigh. Maybe it wasn't Bartlet who'd inspired this loyalty. Maybe this kind of trust and loyalty was an innate part of this man who sat beside him.

They rode in silence as Hoynes considered his options. It was only when the limo pulled up in front of Sam's apartment that he realized he didn't have any options. Sam wasn't on his staff. He had no obligation to the man. He had no personal stake in the man's mental health. He brushed away his own encroaching cynicism. He hadn't been obligated to talk to him when he'd seen Sam standing in front of the White House, either. 

"Sam." He spoke quietly. "We're here."

Sam nodded, and shook himself out of his thoughts. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Vice President."

"No bother, Sam."

  
Sam put a hand on the door, just as Hoynes put a hand on his arm. Turning, Sam looked at the hand as though he'd never seen one before.

"Sam, don't make any decisions tonight, okay?'

"Decisions?" Sam's smile was more a cross between a wince and a grimace. "No. No decisions."

Sam exited the limo, and walked up the stairs of his apartment.

Hoynes sat in the car, watching Sam's door for several minutes before he gave his driver any orders.

** 

Sam stood just inside his apartment leaning heavily against the door. Rain water streamed down his back, arms, and legs to puddle on the hardwood floor. He watched the puddle grow, stretching out across the floor. With great effort, he forced himself away from the door, and headed for the bathroom.

Sam stripped off the wet clothes, and hung them in the bathroom to drip all over the floor. He stood in the shower much as he had against the door and against the fence at the White House—unmoving. The sting of cold water when he'd used all the hot, snapped him back to the present. Shutting off the icy water, he quickly toweled off, and dressed in a Princeton sweatshirt and sweatpants. He considered going to bed, but, knowing sleep would be long in coming, he settled down in the living room.

Sitting on his sofa, Sam automatically flipped on the television. CNN, C-SPAN, MSNBC, local stationsevery channel was carrying it. Speculation about the origins of the tape, about how it had come to be in Sam's possession, and about the possibility of a full-blown conspiracy where the hot topics. He watched it on CNN for an hour or so, but realized that what he was doing bordered on masochism, so he switched off the TV in frustration. 

As he stared at the now-blank TV screen, he realized that sometime since he'd gotten home, his depression had transformed into anger. The rage he'd felt when he'd confronted Kevin was back. He was mad at himself for being so stupid, so trusting. He was mad at Kevin for using him. He was mad at Bruno for being unable to speak in clear concise language. He knew that was childish. Bruno had no obligation to explain himself, but Sam couldn't get past the fact that he had asked Bruno several times what danger there was in speaking to Kevin Khan. All Bruno could come up with was that someone was either trying to hurt them or trying to help them. _Well, thanks for the remarkable insight, Bruno_, he'd thought.

Sam felt that particular fury die a quick death. He wasn't mad at Bruno. Bruno was just easy to blame. The man was an outsider. Sam and Toby had adopted an attitude that they would win reelection in spite of Bruno, and not because of him. Sam knew that was wrong, but it seemed very little had been right this past year. 

Sam was still mad, furious, enraged—he chuckled to himself. _Look, CJ_, he thought, irrationally. _Three words that all mean the same thing._ Kevin had used him, and Sam was finding that hard to forgive, but, mostly, he was mad at himself for allowing Kevin to use him just because he'd thought the man was his friend.

He felt his white-hot rage ease a notch or so. Instead of a boil, he felt it fall to a simmer. He would not forget this. He would use it. He stood shakily and walked towards the bedroom. 

TBC


	2. Part 2

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Ira Furor Brevis Est by Ecri

See part one for disclaimer.

Friday

Sam got to work by 5:00 AM. He hadn't been able to get any sleep. The possibility that he could, conceivably, lose his job, had made the thought of sleep impossible. 

The White House Deputy Communications Director intended to use the peace of the nearly deserted White House to regroup. He'd put his night of insomnia to good use. He had a game plan. 

His anger tinged the depression. Sure, it wasn't completely gone, but it wasn't all consuming, either. He didn't have time for it. He allowed his anger at Kevin and himself to insulate him from the other things he'd been feeling. He would use this to his advantage. Regardless of what he had promised Hoynes, he had made some decisions last night. He was ready to make some changes just as soon as he found out if he still had a job.

**

Sam didn't have to wait long for Leo to arrive. The Chief of Staff had a tendency to get to work before 6:00 AM. By 6:15, he was at his desk going through his calendar for the day. As soon as Sam was sure he'd had a moment to put down his briefcase and settle in, he stopped by Leo's office. He wanted to head this off instead of sitting in his office waiting for a summons.

"Leo, do you have a minute?" Sam stepped inside the office.

Leo looked up, slightly surprised that anyone was dropping by his office already, and even more surprised that it was Sam. "Come in, Sam."

"Leo, I know this thing with the tape is bad, and I take full responsibility. If you want me to fall on my sword, say the word. I'll make any kind of public statement that you want. I will make sure the President is blameless. If you want me to resign, I'll have my resignation on the President's desk within the hour"

"Settle down, Sam. It hasn't gotten that far."

Sam wasn't sure just what that meant. He didn't know what else to say, so he stood waiting in Leo's office, his gaze never straying from Leo's eyes.

Leo sat back in his chair, looking up at Sam standing in front of him. It was the look in Sam's eyes he hadn't expected. He'd thought Sam would be sullen, morose, quiet. He thought Sam would look hurt or repentant orlike a kicked puppy. Like he had looked in the months following the MS revelation. Sam was none of those things

As Leo watched, wondering what he should say, Sam found his voice. "Leo, this is bad. I know it. We all know it. I wanted you to know that I know–that I understand. It ends now. I won't misjudge my enemies again."

"Okay, Sam." Leo waited a moment. "Anything else?"

"No."

Leo nodded. "Get to work." 

Leo stared at the door after Sam left. The Chief of Staff pondered the exchange he had just had with the Deputy Communications Director. Sam was usually an open book. Even when he'd lost it during the MS thing, Sam had, true to character, been defending CJ. Sure, his little comment had included himself, and had been directed at the man among the Senior Staff who'd known about the scandal for the longest time, but his comment had been a defense of someone he considered vulnerable at the moment. Sam had been hurt, and he knew, or imagined he knew, how CJ had felt. It was likely that, had CJ never needed defending, Sam never would have made his remark.

He was a little surprised by Sam's choice of words. Enemies. He'd said he wouldn't misjudge his enemies, not his friends. Leo knew Sam was beating himself up about this, or at least he knew that was what he _expected_ Sam to be doing. It was, after all, what Sam _usually_ did.

Now, however, Leo was baffled. He couldn't read Sam at all. Leo frowned and recalled the look in the young man's eyes. The depression and anxiety that Sam seemed to have been carrying around with him for the better part of a year weren't entirely gone, but they were subdued. First and foremost, Sam looked angry.

He considered what he knew about Sam's personality, and a slow smile spread across his face. In his mind, he saw an image from some old cartoon. Leo chuckled to himself contemplating a Sam Seaborn shaped hole in the wall as he went back to work.

**

Toby tried to hide his concern for his deputy behind his usual morning ritual. He had almost sacrificed the steaming cup of coffee from Starbuck's in the interest of getting to the office that much sooner, but he hadn't wanted to show up at the office without it. He was never sure what minor details of his boss' routine Sam would choose to notice.

He settled his briefcase and coffee on his desk and headed to Sam's office thinking he would use his concern about the opening remarks for the President's upcoming Teacher's Union speech as a reason to speak to his deputy.

Seeing Sam's door closed surprised him. He didn't think Sam had closed his office door more than once or twice in the entire time they'd been in the White House. He paused not sure what to do. On an impulse, he knocked, feeling strangely out of place for doing it.

He heard no response at first, and just as he raised his hand to knock again, Sam's voice called out to him. "Come in."

"Sam"

"Good morning, Toby. Did you need something?"

Toby stared at Sam thinking how surreal this seemed. "The teacher's union speech"

"I just printed the latest draft. When you have time, we should go over it."

"Yeah." He paused not wanting to bring this up, but sure he had to do it. "Listen, Sam, I spoke to Bruno last night" To the casual observer, Sam seemed not to react, but Toby saw the slight tensing of his shoulders, the negligible intake of breath, and the infinitesimal tilt of his chin. 

Toby cleared his throat and began again. "I know you know you made a mistake. We won't discuss it any more than that. Ididn't want you sitting in here waiting for me to say something I have no intention of saying. It's over. Don't worry about Kevin Khan."

Sam blinked in surprise, covering his reaction to Kevin's name, but Toby had seen it, and it pleased him no end.

Toby went back to his office promising Sam they'd meet in an hour to discuss the teacher's union speech. He settled down to work secure in the knowledge that Sam Seaborn was angry. Not hurt. Not despondent. Angry. Their chances at winning this election had just improved dramatically.

**

Josh walked towards Sam's office considering the conversation he'd just had with the Vice President. Hoynes had left a message for him, and, when he'd returned it, he'd been astonished that his former boss wanted to talk to him about Sam Seaborn.

John Hoynes had decided that Josh needed to know what had happened the previous evening. He explained it as succinctly as he could trusting that Josh would find a way to help the Deputy Communications Director.

"He was just standing there in the rain?" Josh asked a second time even though he'd heard all of the details already.

"Yes, Josh. He's in a bad place, isn't he?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"I suppose so. Look, his language was a little" Hoynes wasn't sure how to put this. "He speaks colorfully."

Josh laughed. "Yeah. He does. Colorfully, poetically" something clicked in Josh's head. "Why? What did he say?"

Hoynes explained about the noose comment. "It's probably nothing." He tried to sound reassuring, but doubted his success.

"Have you been asked about it?"

"The video?"

"Yeah."

"I've been asked. I said that as far as I knew, Seaborn was being above board."

"Thank you, Mr. Vice President."

"Josh, don't let him fall too far for this."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Now, as Josh neared Sam's office, he was surprised to find the door closed. He hesitated as a cold lump formed in the pit of his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he knocked, heard a muffled "Come in," and entered to find his friend typing furiously on his laptop. 

"Hey."

"What do you need?"

"I wanted to see if you were okay."

Sam made a noise that could have been a sigh or a snort and went back to typing.

"Soare you?"

"I'm busy, Josh."

"If you need"

"I don't."

Josh knew that Sam wanted him to leave, but he couldn't do that. "Sam, I'm your friend. Let me help."

Sam looked up at him, then, and Josh saw fire in his eyes, and anger in his soul. "You're my _friend_? Josh, we've barely spoken to each other except about work for months! If that's because I didn't noticeI didn't help you last Christmas"

"Sam, what are you saying?" Josh was horrified at Sam's train of thought.

"I was your friend, Josh. I didn't help you when I should have. Of course, you were my friend, too, and you didn't come to me for help."

"That's not"

"Tom Jordan was my friend, and I left him out to dry." He shouted at Josh, his emotions tingeing his words and imbuing them with more meaning than Josh would have thought possible. 

"You didn'tTom wasn't"

"Kevin was my friend." Sam looked down, briefly, then snapped his eyes up to latch desperately onto Josh's. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper–a pain-filled, cold, hard whisper. "Lisa was my friend. Friendship is fleeting."

"Not ours." Josh spoke vehemently.

"No?"

"No, Sam. Not ours."

Sam smiled a sad smile and nodded, but Josh wasn't certain his friend wasn't just trying to make him feel better. He pondered that all the way back to his desk, since retreating was the only thing Josh could think to do. _Maybe_, he thought, _that's why Sam thinks friendship is fleeting._

TBC


	3. Part 3

****

Ira Furor Brevis Est by Ecri 

See part one for disclaimer.

Monday

Toby was distracted. He listened to everyone's opinion, giving them his ear, but his eyes never strayed from Sam for very long. His deputy had made the kind of mistake politicos feared making. Akin to CJ's blunder when she said the President would be relieved to be sending troops to Haiti, this one could conceivably have more serious repercussions.

He listened to Josh, and tried to look his way, but his eyes moved of their own volition back to Sam. Sam Seaborn was never this shy about speaking his mind. He hadn't said a word during this meeting. Toby wasn't even sure his mind was on this meeting. Finally, he came right out and asked.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know." 

Toby pushed. "But you think we don't go, right?

"Yeah."

Toby managed a few more words, effectively ending the meeting. His thoughts were still on Sam. They'd have to talk soon.

**

Later in the day, Josh waylaid Toby in the corridor. "You think he's okay?"

"Sam?"

Josh nodded.

"He'll be fine."

They started to walk down the hall. Josh stopped Toby after a few feet. "Toby, I'm worried he may be"

"What?"

"Suicidal."

Toby stared at Josh for a minute, fear blooming in his heart.

"Why?"

Josh told Toby about his conversation with Hoynes.

"When was this?"

"Thursday night."

Toby started walking again, not caring if Josh kept up with him. "He'd just found out about it on Thursday. He was still stinging from the initial reactions to the tape. He was likely still angry about being set upon by Bruno Gianelli."

"I know that. I'm not an idiot!"

"No, but you resemble one from time to time!" 

"This has been a bad year for him."

"It's been a bad year for all of us."

"He hasn't been the same since his parents split up."

"Don't do this."

"What?'

  
"Make this about more than it's about. He messed up. He knows that. He's moving on."

"I hope so."

Toby stared at Josh for a second. "He's moving on."

Josh nodded, unconvinced, and, once again retreated to his office.

**

CJ stood in Sam's office door. "Sam, you got a minute?

"Sure, CJ. What's up."

  
"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Sam"

"CJ"

"You seem, I don't know, a little down."

"I'm not down. I'm up."

"You know what, Spanky?"

Sam looked at her a half smile forming at her use of the nickname only she called him. 

"You're good at your job."

"CJ, I'm fine."

"You're not. 

Sam gave her a half-smile, and put out a hand as if to stall any further words from CJ. "Seriously, I am fine. I'm up off the dirt.I'm moving onjust fine."

CJ frowned at Sam's tone. For some reason, she recalled the night of the State of the Union when he'd mentioned the cancer community buying him a beer, and had quickly brushed her off before she could show too much concern. Not convinced, but not sure what to do about it, CJ nodded to Sam and walked back to her office.

**

****

Several weeks later

"That's all I have." CJ spoke confidently to the press corps, shutting her folder and stepping off the dais.

  
The reporters immediately called her name to get her attention, but CJ was already headed back to her office, 

As she walked, she literally bumped into Josh. "Woah, slow down! Where are you going?" She asked him as they spun around in an effort not to hit the ground.

"To look for you."

"Well, here I am." CJ continued to walk.

Josh ran to catch up. "CJ, Oval Office."

CJ turned sharply. "What happened?" She started towards the Oval Office quickening her pace.

"Ritchie gave a speech." He nodded his head in the general direction of the Oval office. "He wants opinions on how to respond." 

When they reached the Oval Office, Toby, Sam, and Leo were already there. President Bartlet stood behind his desk hands clutching the back of his chair in white-knuckled anger. "For God's sake, Leo, where does the man get off? Is he making this stuff up?"

"No, sir, not all of it." Leo replied.

"Don't give me your lip, Leo. I don't have to accept this." He noticed CJ and Josh. He looked at Josh. "Did you tell her?"

Josh shook his head and looked uncomfortable.

Leo explained to a perplexed Press Secretary. "Ritchie made some comments about Senior Staff, the President, and the job he's done. He said that it surprised him that a supposedly intelligent man would allow an alcoholic such a high profile job. He was asked if he believed that I steer the President to the middle ground." He paused.

CJ looked from Leo to the President. "And"

Bartlet spoke first. "He said that he was sure it would take some steering because a man like me could never find the road–let alone the middle of it–on his own."

She stared at them for a moment. "Meaning what exactly? You're too stupid to find the road? You're so smart you think too much about the road?"

"Doesn't matter what he meant. It's how it sounded." Leo was trying to shrug it off.

CJ tried to calculate just what they could say to spin this automatically assessing what kind of damage such statements could do to their already shaky campaign. "Can he say this?"

Leo nodded. "Most of it is public knowledge. He's just reminding people about it."

Josh shifted uncomfortably. "Leo, there's no gain in saying you're alcoholic. Like you said, it's public knowledge." 

"It is public knowledge, but there is gain. People will see me as a drunk, and all he had to say was alcoholic'. Since I am a self-admitted alcoholic, he's not telling a lie."

Sam took a few steps forward drawing all eyes to him as he spoke. "I can get a statement from a spokesperson from AA to force him to acknowledge publicly that there is a huge difference between alcoholics and recovering alcoholics." Sam was about to add more to his suggestion, when Leo cut him off.

"There's not, you know."

"Not what?" Sam asked.

"Not a huge difference between alcoholics and recovering alcoholics. Do you know what the difference is?"

Sam shook his head.

"One drink."

Sam stared at him for a moment, wanting to argue, believing with all his heart that Leo was wrong, but he just nodded and stepped back.

"I don't happen to agree with that, Leo." Bartlet nodded to Sam. Sam returned the nod, rightly interpreting it to mean that President Bartlet wanted him to do as he'd suggested.

Before Leo could make any additional remarks, Toby made his way to stand next to CJ. "Tell her the rest."

CJ spun to look at him eyes wide, voice incredulous. "There's more?"

Bartlet stepped around his desk and sat in one of the conference chairs, gesturing for his staff to take seats. "The laundry list, CJ, is Leo's alcoholism, Josh's penchant for insulting our friends as well as our enemies" With great effort Bartlet reigned in his growing anger. "Then there's Toby's quote about me winning reelection on Hoynes' coattails. Ritchie's using that as proof that even my staff doesn't have faith in me." Bartlet waved away Toby's unspoken objection. "Leo told me it was out of context, but I don't think the Press will buy that."

CJ was still reeling. "Is that everything?"

"Noooo." The President continued. "Let's see. He mentioned my relief at sending troops to Haiti"

CJ's mouth fell open. "Mr. President"

"CJ, if you apologize again, I'm going home. To New Hampshire. I've spent the last half hour hearing the entire staff apologize and I can't take it anymore."

CJ looked pointedly around the room. "The entire staff?"

"Yeah." Bartlet looked around. "Who'd I miss?"

Sam raised his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but Bartlet stopped him with a glare.

The President turned back to CJ. "Sam got two. Ritchie brought up the hooker"

"Call Girl." Toby and Josh corrected in unison before Sam could.

The President ignored them. "and he's claiming that Sam was involved in a conspiracy to undermine the Ritchie campaign."

"How" CJ looked to Sam, puzzled.

"The video tape." He reminded her reluctantly.

Toby caught Sam's gaze before it hit the floor. "You're still angry, right?"

Sam almost laughed at the look in his boss' eyes, but settled for a small, sad smile, and a nod of his head, which did little to assuage Toby's misgivings.

CJ looked around the room. "How does the video tape undermine Ritchie's campaign?

Toby explained. "He says Sam was planting suspicion among the staffers by suggesting the campaign had a mole."

CJ looked from Toby to Sam, who only shrugged. She turned back to the President. "All of this was in order to question your judgement and your policies, wasn't it?"

Bartlet nodded. "Yeah, apparently I'm a liberal academic who thinks he can run the country like a think tank, but hasn't got the slightest idea how to handle a crisis."

"You can't handle a crisis? What does he think we've been doing since we got here? We gotta call him on this. We can't let him get away with it!"

Josh nodded. "I agree. We should accuse him of mudslinging. Of manufacturing issues where none exist. We need to tell the public"

Toby cut him off. "What? What do we tell the public? Don't listen to him. He's not playing fair?' Josh, we respond to this and he's got us where he wants us."

"Are you saying we let this go?" Josh was incredulous. "I mean, it's not so much about what he said as much as it's" Josh cut himself and started again. "If we don't respond at all, even a general statement, isn't it going to look like we're agreeing with him, or just hoping it will go away or something?"

Leo shook his head. "I can't see how we can find a way to spin this in our favor."

Toby nodded, taking up the reasoning. "We can't deny too vehemently because it will seem as though we're trying to draw attention away from what he said, or that we are hiding something. If we ignore it"

CJ was shaking her head. "We can't ignore it! Someone is going to ask me about it at the next briefing."

"If we ignore it, it will become a bigger issue." Josh agreed.

Toby sighed in frustration. "I don't think we should ignore it, but I don't want us making a big deal about it, either."

Bartlet sat back. "Deny it, don't deny it, ignore it, don't ignore it_I want to call him out_!"

"Or have him call you out." Sam's voice was soft but it carried well enough for Bartlet to hear him.

"What was that? What do you mean have _him_ call _me_ out?"

Sam glanced at the President. "Sir, if Ritchie wants to call attention to these things, he's going to have to expect some sort of response." Sam paused, knowing most, if not all, of the staff would not like his suggestion. "So, let's make the response in publicand in front of him."

Bartlet's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered what Sam was saying. Before he could say a word, Josh did.

"We can't have the President confront Ritchie in public and try to take him down for saying mean things about the staff! It'll make him look pettyand besides that"

Bartlet interrupted Josh's tirade when he noticed that CJ and Leo seemed about to interrupt with words of their own. Toby seemed content to stare silently at his deputy as if gauging something. Gauging what, Bartlet wouldn't even guess. 

"What do you have in mind, Sam." Bartlet's voice was loud enough to draw their eyes to him, and he'd purposely used his most presidential tone. He was pleased to see the head of every person in the Oval Office swing towards him as if unable to do anything else. At least he knew he could still command their attention.

Sam shook his head. "There's a way to do this and make it look like it was Ritchie's idea. We've got that trip to Oregon coming up in a few days"

"A few days!" CJ's arms came up from her sides and dropped back down almost lifelessly in defeat. "Sam, my next briefing is in three hours!"

"CJ, let him finish." Bartlet urged Sam to continue.

"Ritchie's going to be in California a few days later. It should be simple enough to manufacture a reason for us to go to LA for a day or so. We'll just bump into Ritchie, goad him into demanding a debate, and offer to debate him on the spot. If he says yes, we'll already have briefed you on it, and if he says no"

Bartlet smiled. "He looks scared."

Leo stared at Bartlet and then at Sam. "He looks as if he can only talk about the President behind his back."

Sam nodded, smiling. 

Toby leaped out of his chair and rushed at Sam "I love it when you're angry!" He declared slapping his deputy on the back so hard he nearly fell over.

Bartlet glanced to Leo, puzzled, but his Chief of Staff just shrugged. Sam hadn't sounded angry to either of them, though Leo knew why Toby had said it. CJ and Josh, however, were grinning. Whether that was because they understood the Communications Director's cryptic remark or because they found it amusing that Toby had nearly knocked his deputy down, Bartlet couldn't tell.

"How are we going to make this work?" Bartlet asked. His staff settled down and began to tackle the nuts and bolts of their plan.

  
Sam turned to CJ. "Tell the press" Sam paused, his head tilted back, eyes toward the ceiling as he contemplated how precisely they should do this. "Tell them the President is amused at Governor Ritchie's assessment of his presidency and would love the opportunity to discuss it with him further. If they press you for more, give them the standard, no further comment line"

  
Toby watched his Deputy easily slide into the driver's seat, taking the meeting into a strategy planning session. The staff followed his lead, talking aloud, tackling the language they should use, and composing questions they thought it likely Ritchie or his people might throw at the President. Sam seemed to smile quicker, laugh heartier, and joke easier than he had in months. In relief, Toby sat back and took it all in, grinning before he was completely aware of it. Feeling someone's gaze on him. He glanced around the room.

President Bartlet caught his eyes and offered a small nod and a Mona Lisa of a smile. He understood what Toby was gauging, now. Sam Seaborn was up off the dirt.

TBC


	4. Part 4

****

Ira Furor Brevis Est by Ecri

See part one for disclaimer.

Air Force One

Several Days Later

Toby looked through his papers detailing the President's itinerary for their visit to Los Angeles. His anxiety about this ploy had increased since the take off from Oregon. He hated trusting that things would go well. Too often things did not go well. Not that he didn't trust Sam to have done this right. He did. Still, when Sam sat down next to him, he had to ask. "You're still angry, right?"

Sam nodded. "Yes, I am. Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Angergives you an edgeit keeps you on your toes. But"

"But what?"

"There's a fine line between that edge and vindictiveness. I don't want to see you cross it." Toby looked away suddenly uncomfortable.

Sam laughed.

  
"What's funny?

"You." He switched to a deep, menacing, yet mocking tone. "Beware the Dark Side"

"I didn't say that!"

"You implied it, Toby-wan."

"I'm just saying keep your head in the game!"

"Yes, Master."

"Cut that out!"

Sam laughed at Toby's discomfort. It was the most wonderful sound Toby had heard in months.

**

****

Los Angeles

The President's motorcade came to a stop in front of The New Otani Hotel. As the Secret Service fanned out to secure the area, President Bartlet emerged. He walked with his Chief of Staff, but he scanned the crowd for someone else. "Where's Sam?" He asked his longtime friend.

Before Leo McGarry could answer, Sam Seaborn appeared as if out of nowhere. "Here, sir."

"Is he here?"

Sam nodded. "He should finish his speech in a few minutes. The reporters will likely be waiting in the corridor to talk to him as he leaves the ballroom. We should arrive in the corridor just after he does."

Bartlet nodded, casting an eye around the lobby to locate the rest of the staff. Toby stood a few feet away alternately checking his watch and peering down the hall towards what Bartlet assumed was the ballroom in question. CJ stood amidst the White House Press Corp maintaining the fiction that Ritchie and Bartlet being in the same place at the same time was an unavoidable coincidence. He wondered if any of them believed that.

Sam excused himself and moved to join Toby.

Bartlet watched the two together. He knew this had taken a lot of orchestration and Sam had taken on most of it himself. Bartlet could read barely a trace of the anxiety and anticipation he knew Sam must be feeling, but he also saw how quickly even these slight vestiges disappeared from Sam's face, carriage, and mannerisms when he approached CJ and the Press Corps. Sam was the epitome of professionalism. He seemed to be hitting the mark more precisely, more accurately than ever before.

Bartlet could hear Ritchie's voice around the corner as he approached the intersecting corridor. He could also hear a few reporters shouting questions at the man. As he neared, he took notice of Sam again. The youngest member of Bartlet's Senior Staff straightened his tie, smoothed his jacket, and stepped around the corner, coming into view of the Press and, undoubtedly, of Ritchie and his staff. Bartlet heard Ritchie's pause in his reply to one of the reporters as the man took notice of a prominent member of Bartlet's staff surely guessing that Bartlet himself must be nearby.

Bartlet was supposed to be on his way to address the Los Angeles World Affairs Council. CJ had announced the President's speech only a few days previously, but Sam and Toby had made arrangements to enter through the lobby at the last minute. They'd let it leak to the press that the President would enter the hotel through the more secure—and private—rear entrance, leaving Ritchie's people to believe the President wanted to avoid the Governor.

Bartlet recalled how they'd waited to see if Ritchie's plans would change. They had discussed the possibility, but Sam and Toby hadn't thought it at all likely. After all, this was a major fundraiser for Ritchie. He couldn't really cancel his appearance and expect people to give him enough money to run for president.

The President stopped for a moment, waiting for the signal. Sam turned and nodded in his direction, and Bartlet started forward again, buttoning his jacket as he walked. The moment the press realized he was there, they began to shout questions at him. He nodded in greeting and then CJ stepped in and reminded the press where the President was going.

Bartlet paused as if noticing Ritchie for the first time. "Governor Ritchie," he called out cordially. "How are you?"

Ritchie nodded. "Well. And yourself?"

Bartlet inhaled deeply, smiling, to illustrate his own good health. "Never better!"

A reporter called out loudly from somewhere to Bartlet's left. "Mr. President, now that you are face to face with Governor Ritchie, do you have anything to say to him regarding his comments about you, your staff, and your presidency?"

Bartlet paused as if considering whether or not he should comment. "Governor Ritchie is entitled to his opinion," he admitted. He looked towards Ritchie, locking eyes with the man. "But, for the record, I don't think his accusations can be taken seriously. Certainly, they can't be mistaken for fact."

Ritchie took a step forward. Kevin Khan put up a hand to restrain him, not happy about where this could lead. Ritchie looked at Kevin and reluctantly nodded. Just then a reporter shoved a microphone in Ritchie's face. "Governor, anything in your own defense?"

Ritchie smiled, then laughed a nervous little chuckle. "I don't think I have to defend myself. The things I said are a matter of record."

"Are you sure about that?" Bartlet asked, quietly. 

"Excuse me?" Ritchie appeared puzzled.

"Are you sure that everything you said was a matter of public record?" Josiah Bartlet seemed the essence of patience as he waited for his opponent to answer.

"Am I sure?" He looked towards Kevin Khan as if seeking instruction.

"Surely you don't need to ask your staff about the veracity of your words." Bartlet's voice conveyed a modicum of surprise.

Ritchie turned to glare at Bartlet. "I am most certainly sure. I stand by what I said. The melioration of my opinion is above reproach."

Bartlet laughed. "I don't know what you're trying to say. I don't even think you just said what you think you just said" He held up his hands to forestall an argument. "But since you are so sure you've got your facts straight, would you like to share them with me?"

Angered by Bartlet's insinuation that he'd misspoken, Governor Ritchie responded without thinking. "Of course we can."

"I have a few minutes right now. Let's do it here." He gestured towards the press and both entourages.

"OhI don't"

"You mean you can't show me—or at least tell me about—these public records?"

"Records?"

"The irrefutable proof that my staff has been involved in clandestine conspiracies, has little or no faith in my abilities as president, and that my Chief of Staff is anything other than a _recovering_ alcoholic?" He paused for a moment, waiting. Regardless of Leo's opinion, that one word made a big difference. He looked Ritchie up and down. "I didn't think so. Frankly, I think you owe an apology to every member of AA for insinuating that recovering alcoholics can't be trusted to hold responsible positions."

Ritchie's anger dissipated when he realized that he didn't want to see this through. He didn't even glance at any of his staff before attempting to reply. "WellI couldI don't"

The reporters leaped into the fray shouting questions about Ritchie's comments. Ritchie looked to Kevin, who stepped forward and tried to take control of the situation. For several minutes, Ritchie and his staff tried to extricate him from this predicament. Bartlet's answers to the reporters' occasional questions shouted to him shot neat holes in whatever defenses the Republicans could muster. Finally, CJ Cregg held up a hand. "I'm afraid this has taken too long. If the Governor would like a debate, the President would be happy to schedule one. No more questions, please. The President has a speech to give in a few minutes."

CJ, Toby, Josh, and Leo—along with the Secret Service—ushered the President towards his next appointment. Sam dropped back for a moment to watch Ritchie and his people as they tried to spin what had happened.

Ritchie stepped forward when a reporter asked him if he had any of the proof that Bartlet had mentioned. 

Disingenuously, he replied. "This was an absurd exercise. Bartlet is trying to draw attention away from the fact his Chief of Staff is an alcoholic, and the rest of the Senior Staff don't seem to be able to handle their jobs all that well. Bartlet had lost touch with what the people want. He's been too busy hiding things from the people of the United States to really run the country effectively. Bartlet has his"

"That's _President_ Bartlet." Sam hadn't intended to speak. He wasn't the story here, but he had to say it. He was only glad he'd been able to exercise enough control to keep his own tone respectful while making it clear that he would tolerate nothing less than respect for this man he served. Cameras and microphones turned towards the young man. 

Ritchie squinted in Sam's direction. "What did you say, son?"

"You referred to the President as Bartlet. The correct forms of address are President Bartlet or Mr. President. You can refer to him as either of those or as The President. I understand you don't agree with his politics, but you should at least respect his office. And I'm not your son."

He was about to slip quietly into the background to join Toby, when Kevin's voice rang out clearly. "Sam Seaborn is Bartlet's poster boy for poor judgement"

It was obvious the man had more to say, but Sam cut him off redirecting the unfinished verbal attack before Kevin could mention either Laurie or the videotape. "Showing respect for the President of the United States is showing poor judgement? Showing respect for the Commander-in-Chief of this country, a country for which countless Americans have died, is poor judgement?" He shook his head as if in amazement. "That's news to me, Mr. Khan. I'm pretty sure it will be news to most Americans." Without waiting for Kevin or Ritchie to respond, Sam turned and trailed after the President's entourage.

**

****

Several Days Later

CJ moved gracefully down the corridor towards Leo's office, not even entirely aware that she was humming. She was the last to arrive for Senior Staff, and was pleased to see that everyone else seemed as happy as she was.

Toby laughed out loud when she walked in.

She stopped in her tracks. "What?"

"Still too sexy, CJ?"

Realizing what she'd been humming, she smiled. "You know it!"

Toby returned her smile. "I do, in fact."

"We don't have time for this people." Leo stated, glancing around the room. "On the record, things look good. Congratulations, Sam. It worked better than I'd imagined."

Sam nodded, smiling. "Thanks, Leo."

Leo nodded once, then clapped his hands together. "Let's get started."

**

Josh slipped a few file folders into his backpack, and switched off the lights to his office. As he made his way out of the West Wing, he noticed Sam's light still on. He peeked through the open door—pleased beyond measure that it was open once again—to see what his friend was doing.

The younger man sat typing so rapidly that Josh wondered how he could be thinking that fast. "Hey," He called quietly.

Sam didn't bother looking up, so engrossed was he in his work. "Hey, Josh."

"It's late. You should go."

"Soon as I finish this."

"Sam" Josh hesitated, not comfortable with what he was about to ask. His tone drew Sam's complete attention.

"What is it?" He pushed the computer slightly aside and fixed a steady gaze on the older man.

"It's nothing."

  
"Josh."

"Really it's nothingit's something you said to Hoynesand something else you said to meI really don't know how to have this conversation."

"You're doing a good job of not having this conversation. Whatever it is, just say it." 

"Beforeyou told me friendship is fleeting. Did you mean that?"

Sam sighed and leaned back. It took him so long to answer that Josh nearly took his silence for the only answer he could expect. When Sam finally broke the silence, Josh still didn't like what he had to say.

"I meant it at the time."

"And now?"

"I don't know, Josh. I don't know who to trust."

"You can trust me."

"I wish I could."

"Sam!"

"It's probably got little to do with you." He paused. "That meeting about Hoynes being replacedmy first thought about that was that you had sent me away. If I'd trusted you, I probably wouldn't have thought that."

"But"

"Let me finish. It's not like you've lied to meit's not thatexcuse me" He sat still as a stone. Josh was about to clear his throat or grab Sam's arm and shake him or something when Sam spoke again. "I just. I don't knowI've been out of the loop and blatantly lied to or misledI want to trust the President and TobyI want to trust you."

"Samyou're not thinking ofyou don't want to"

"What?"

"Kill yourself?"

"Josh! What would give you that idea?"

"You've had a rough year."

"So have you."

"Hoynes told me you said something about slipping your head in a noose and kicking a chair away."

It took Sam several moments to recall when he might have said something like that. When it came to him, he laughed. "Josh, I was speaking figuratively. If anything, I was speaking about my career. If I thought of ending anything that night, it was my career, not my life."

"Oh."

"You believe me?"

"I want to believe you."

"It's the truth. I never quit anything in my life. I'm not about to start by quitting my life."

Josh smiled. "That I can believe."

"Good." 

Josh looked at Sam, relieved to see a small trace of a smile, touching both his lips and his eyes. "You still think friendship is fleeting?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. You tell me."

"Do you really think that I turned away from you because you didn't notice the PTSD?"

"Did you?"

Josh was going to deny it, but then a thought crossed his mind seemingly out of nowhere. "No more than I turned away from everyone else."

Sam considered that. "I suppose that's true."

"_I_ didn't even notice the PTSD. Sam, come on. What do you want from me?"

"I wish I could tell you. I guess I just want someone to believe. And maybe someone to believe in me."

"I can be that."

  
"Can you?"

"Of course."

"How long until I'm too much of a liability? How long until I lose my job? This job that means the world to me, this job that I gave up a _life_ in New York and a _fiancée_ to pursue. How long before people stop seeing me altogether." He stood, throwing his pen down on his desk.

Josh stepped back, shaky and unsure of himself. "Things are going good. The debate"

"I'm good at my job, Josh."

"I never said you weren't."

"No. You didn't, butJosh, if we're friends, don't you think we should be, I don't know, _friendly_?

"We're not _un_friendly."

"We're not anything."

"Sam, don't"

Sam sat down, wondering what he should say. Josh wanted reassurances that their friendship was fine. Sam wasn't even sure what that meant, but he knew that, if he said it, Josh would smile, nod, and walk out of his office. Things would bestatus quo.

"Josh, we've known each other a long time, but maybe it's time to decide if we're friends or acquaintances."

Josh stared at Sam for a moment, then he moved his gaze slowly around the room. He thought about the first time they'd met, and how impressed he'd been. Sam had seemed to be the most intelligent, well-spoken congressional aide he'd ever met. His memories spilled out on each other's heels, encapsulating the last decade or more.

"We're friends." Josh said, convinced they were, but unconvinced that Sam agreed with him.

"You stopped coming to me."

"I did."

"Why?"

Josh considered all the things that had seemed to be reasons not to talk to Sam. None of them seemed important. "I don't know."

"Can we fix this?"

Josh smiled. He knew he had an answer to that one. "Are you kidding? Two masters of spin like us? Of course we can!"

Toby walking by the office heard what Josh had said. "Apprentices," he yelled as he walked into his own office.

"What?"

Sam laughed. "I called him master"

"As in 'I Dream of Jeannie?'"

"No. Have you been talking to CJ?"

Josh's head spun at the non sequitur. "Huh?"

"Nothing." Sam raised his voice, obviously intent on Toby hearing him. "And it's master as in Toby-wan."

Josh snorted.

Sam smiled broadly at the absurdity of what he'd said.

Toby entered scowling. "We're keeping that to ourselves."

Josh tried to stifle his laugh. "Not much chance of that."

"It's your fault, Master."

"Sam!"

Like a contagion, the deputies' peals of laughter spread down the halls of the West Wing.

TBC


	5. Part 5

****

Ira Furor Brevis Est by Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer.

The Next Day

Donna sat at her desk, knowing full well that she appeared to be busy. She was, in actuality waiting for Josh to get off the phone. Staring at the red light, she finally let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when it winked off. Like the starting flag at a race, the light signaled Donna, who bolted from her chair and flew into Josh's office.

"Josh," she called as she entered.

Josh looked up, startled. "What?" 

"You told me to tell you when Sam was in."

"He's in?"

Donna threw her hands up in exasperation. "No. I just like to come in here and remind you of things you told me to do. He just got here."

Josh looked at the clock. 6:00 AM. This was early, even for Sam. Josh stood and followed Donna out of his office when something occurred to him. "What are you doing here so early, Donna?"

"My really mean boss told me I had to be here by 5:30 this morning."

"Right. Why did I do that?"

"Because you're mean."  
  
"We've established that."

"I thought it bore repeating."

"It didn't."

"Wait until you've heard me say it all day."

Josh hung his head, and broke off the conversation as he walked over to Sam's office. Sam wasn't there. As a matter of fact, his office was still dark. He moved to check with Toby.

There was Sam.

Josh was about to wish his coworkers a good morning, but something about their hushed voices, their postures, and the wide-eyed look on Sam's face rendered Josh's voice useless. He swallowed and entered the room. Finally able to get himself under control, he asked the obvious question.

"What's going on?"

Sam whirled as if shot, and Toby scowled in his direction.

Josh wanted to say something witty, but he couldn't think of a single word in any language, so he waited for someone to answer his initial question.

By now, Sam had relaxed somewhat. Toby waved Josh in. "Shut the door."

Josh did as he was told, in itself a remarkable moment, but Toby's order and the looks on both their faces imbued Josh with a sense of foreboding that he'd never felt before. He approached Toby and Sam cautiously and put a hand on Sam's arm. "You okay."

"I don't really know."

Josh turned to Toby, a question on his face.

Toby hands Josh a stack of photographs. Josh looked at them one at a time. They were pictures of Sam and Kevin Khan. "What is this?"

"I got those in the mail. At my apartment." Sam reached for the pile, and showed Josh the last one.

It showed an angry, wet Sam shoving Kevin.

"When did this happen?"

"Ages ago. Right after the tape went public."

"Who sent it?"

"I don't know."

"Where's the envelope?"

Sam handed it over. It had no return address, and no postage. "This was hand delivered." Josh indicated where there should have been postage and a postmark."

Sam nodded. "I know. It was stuffed under my door this morning."

"Was there a note?"

"I just asked him that when you walked in." Toby looked at Sam expectantly.

"Nothing informative, no."

"Sam."

Sam bristled at the tone, but handed a slip of paper to his boss. 

Toby read it out loud. "'Enjoy the news cycle.'"

"This is bad," Josh said in a whisper.

"Ya think?" Toby stared at the Deputy Chief of Staff as if he had just started doing the can-can.

"We gotta go to Leo." Josh insisted.

"And CJ." Sam added, hoping CJ wouldn't be mad that he'd gone to Toby first. He hadn't planned it. It had been an automatic response. As soon as he'd seen the photos, all he could think about was getting to the office to tell Toby before they hit the media. 

Sam checked his watch. "I'm gonna go and get CJ to postpone her briefing. Should we meet back here?" 

Toby shook his head. "Get her and get to Leo's office." He turned to Josh. "Josh, call Bruno"

Sam's face fell, as he interrupted. "Bruno?"

"We have to, Sam."

"I know. I just thought maybe we'd keep it to Senior Staff at first."

"We don't know when it's gonna hit the news."

"I know." Sam nodded. "Okay. Get Bruno."

**

Margaret nodded, and waited for her boss to continue.

Leo McGarry sat at his desk, looking up at his secretary. "Then, get Harrison on the phone. I promised him a call about the healthcare bill."

"Leo?" Toby leaned a hand on the doorframe.

"Yeah, Toby?" Leo glanced up at Toby, his mood changing instantly, not because of Toby's expression, which was always a bit dour, but because the man emanated a sense of impending doom. "What?" He urged, hoping that, whatever it was, Toby was somehow already exaggerating.

"We need to speak to you."

"We?" Leo looked over Toby's shoulder, and was about to tell Toby he was alone, when he saw Sam approach with CJ in tow and Josh and Bruno close behind. "Come in." He gestured the crowd inside. As Margaret turned to leave, he called to her. "Hold my calls, Margaret."

The redhead nodded, and swung the door closed behind her.

Leo stood. "What happened?"

Sam stepped forward and handed a stack of photos to Leo. "I got these in the mail."

Leo looked at them, his anger mounting. "Sam! What the hell happened? When were these taken?"

"Back when the tapes first went public

"I knew you met with Kevin again afterwards, but I didn't know there was art!"

"I didn't either," Sam admitted.

"You met with Khan a second time?" Bruno over-pronounced each word, emphasizing each as he tended to do when he was angry.

"I went to see him to ask him why."

"We don't care why! What difference could that make?"

"Settle down, Bruno." Leo handed the photos to CJ, who went through them quickly, pausing briefly at one, and then handed them to Bruno.

Bruno looked through them. "Who sent these?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Sam handed the note to Leo.

Leo read it out loud. "Damn it, Sam!"

"Throw gasoline on the fire, why don't you, Seaborn?" Bruno ranted for several minutes, as Sam felt his world crumble again. How had this happened? He wasn't an idiot, yet he kept screwing up. 

"What difference, Sam? Would his reasoning suddenly make it all better?"

Sam felt his anger flare. He took a step toward Bruno. "Listen, Gianelli"

Josh's head snapped up to stare wide-eyed at his friend. This was a rare tone for Sam. This was his bust-you-like-a-piñata tone.

"I went to see him. Right now, that's all you need to know."

Bruno took a step forward as well, until he and Sam were nearly nose to nose. "You listen, Seaborn! All I need to know is, can you be trusted to do as you're told?' It doesn't look like you can. It's bad enough that you caused this fiasco with the tape, but now, you compound the problem! Are you an idiot?"

Josh threw himself into the fray wanting nothing more than to prove to Sam that he was a good friend. "Bruno, shut up! The important thing now is to deal with this, not to analyze why Sam did it. After all, what difference does it make? Would his reasoning suddenly make it better?"

Bruno seethed at hearing his own words thrown in his face, but he did drop it.

"Just for the record, Sam, did he give you a reason?" Leo was more interested in drawing Sam's attention away from Bruno than in an answer to the question.

Sam nodded. "Retaliation for the open mike. I tried to tell him it was a mistake, but he didn't believe me."

CJ glanced at Leo. Until that moment she hadn't been sure if he knew. He seemed startled when he realized that she knew, too. She knew they'd be talking about it later.

"A lot of papers reported that you were there." CJ reminded him, gently.

"I wasn't."

"I know."

"That's not the thing that bothered me." He leaned forward as if confiding a dark secret. "He thinks it wasn't a mistake. He's sure the President did it on purpose. He probably thinks it was my idea."

CJ swallowed her initial response. She or Leo would have to tell the President what Sam had just told them, but before she could give it much thought, they were drawn back into what could only be described as the battle the rest of the staff had started. 

Bruno was waving one of the pictures under Sam's nose, and while he, Sam and Toby were shouting. Somehow, Sam managed to look angry and worried at the same time.

"People, People!" Leo's voice cut through the cacophony, but the combatants continued to glare at each other. "Bruno, what's your spin?"

"This picture isn't that clear. It was raining. He can deny its him."

Leo didn't have to look at Sam. He felt the man bristle at the suggestion. He forced himself to look anyway, cutting the younger man off when he inhaled sharply in preparation of assailing Bruno with whatever words a speechwriter would feel compelled to use when feeling righteously indignant. "Sam, is it you?"

"Yes."

"That takes care of that."

Bruno stopped glaring at Toby and Sam, and started glaring at Leo. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I can be." Leo was firm. "We won't deny anything. If they come up with better pictures somewhere down the line, he'd just have to say, Oh, you know what, I guess that was me after all.' We are _not_ gonna go there."

Bruno turned away for just a moment. "What do you intend to do?"

Leo turned his attention to Sam. "Can you be charged with anything here?"

Sam had hoped no one would think of that. "Officially, only Kevin Khan can charge me."

"With what?" Josh seemed perplexed.

"Assault." Sam spoke matter-of-factly, as if he wasn't even discussing himself. 

"Assault?" CJ and Josh both said it at the same time and spared a glance for each other before glaring at Sam as if demanding he take back what he'd said.

Sam only nodded. "Technically, it was assault. He'd look fairly foolish charging me, though. I mean, there was nothing to it. He wasn't injured. The thing is"

"What? What thing? What's the thing?" Josh demanded.

"He doesn't need to charge me with anything. He can laugh it off and still present this picture as evidence that I'm volatile or dangerousor just that I'm conspiring. He doesn't even have to be the one who releases the pictures. He can claim ignorance as far as how they got to the press, and insist that he never had any intention of sharing this with the public. He's barely involved." Sam shrugged. "He's sowing seeds.unless he intended all along to press charges. Or mix this up with the tape and get me on conspiracy _and_ assault."

Josh ignored the colorful metaphor and turned his attention to Leo, sure that his friend and mentor could somehow fix this. "We won't let it get that far, right?"

Leo stared at Josh for a moment before allowing his frustration and annoyance to cross his features. "Oh, and how do you expect we're gonna do that? Hire someone to break his kneecaps?"

"Do we know someone who will break his kneecaps?"

"Josh!"

Josh held up his hands to Leo in a gesture of surrender. 

Toby stepped forward. "I think the only thing we can assume is that this is going to make it to the media soon. Even if we find out who has it, we can't trust that they will be the only ones who have it."

"What are you saying? That we just wait?" Josh stared at Toby as if the man had grown a second head that had promptly begun to sing the score to _Oklahoma_.

"There's little else we can do other than devise the exit strategy."

Josh whirled to face Bruno, who had spoken softly from the back of the room. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Leo, sensing Josh's deteriorating mood, took a step forward. "Calm down."

"What? NO! Not until he explains himself!"

Bruno addressed himself to Leo. "I mean we should start to distance the President from Sam and come up with an exit strategy. If we can do that before this goes public, we can keep damage to a minimum."

Josh brow furrowed in a furious glare, and, opening his mouth to shout at Bruno, was amazed to hear a voice other than his own.

"We won't be doing that."

  
Those who were not standing found their feet as they each echoed Sam's greeting. "Mr. President."

"Good Morning, Mr. President."

  
"Mr. President."

"Mr. President."

"Mr. President."

Only Bruno remained silent. Only Bruno held Bartlet's undivided attention. The other staffers, sensing a confrontation about to take place, parted before Bartlet as the Red Sea had before Moses.

"No exit strategies. No distancing. It's not going to happen."

  
"It's worth consideration." Bruno insisted.

Bartlet shook his head. "No. It really isn't."

Sam cleared his throat and took a few steps toward his President. "Sir, if we can't find any other way to spin this, it might be for the best."

Bartlet turned to Sam. "No, Sam. It wouldn't be for the best. It might be expedient, but it wouldn't be best." He continued to stare at Sam as a small hint of a smile graced his features. Without turning from Sam, he called his orders. "CJ, find out who has this."

"Yes, Sir."

  
"Toby, Josh, find out who sent this."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Leo, Bruno, Sam, go back to work. We'll be meeting about this later today."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Thank you, Mr. President.

**

****

Hours Later

Oval Office

Jed Bartlet stared at his long time friend as if willing Leo to have an answer. When it was more than apparent that he didn't have anything to say, the President decided he had to break the silence. "It's been hours, Leo. Why don't we know something, yet?"

Leo shrugged. "I can't answer that. Josh's theory is that whoever sent this didn't send it to the media yet because they're trying to scare us into doing something stupid."

"Are we?"

"Are we what?"

"Going to do something stupid."

"I hadn't planned on it, Mr. President."

"Yeah, but apparently I did."

"What?" Leo was lost.

"The open mike. That's what started this."

"Mr. President"

"No. I'm just saying. I've got to fix this, and it can't be at Sam's expense."

Leo's eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we need to clear this up or you and I won't have the privilege of voting for Sam Seaborn for President."

Leo stared at the President, surprise evident on his face. "You're grooming him."

Jed shrugged. "Not very well, I'm afraid. We have to refocus. The MS took too much out of himout of us. I won't have this hanging over his head."

"I'm not sure what we can do, Mr. President."

"Check in with everyone. I'll want to meet about this soon."

Leo nodded, taking a last look at a thoughtful Josiah Bartlet as he left the Oval Office.

TBC 


	6. Part 6

****

Ira Furor Brevis Est by Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer.

****

The Next Day

6:30 AM

CJ Cregg stared out at the reporters from her podium. Steve had asked the question she'd been hoping to avoid. The photos had hit the press over night. They'd had roughly 24 hours advance notice and they'd been unable to find out who had the pictures or who had sent them. Inwardly, she sighed and hung her head. Outwardly, she remained calm and poised.

"I'll look into that, and get back to you."

"CJ, can you give us a comment about it?"

"No."

"Do you think this is Sam Seaborn?"

"I can't comment until I've had a chance to look into this. No more questions."

She stepped away from the podium, trying not to rush because she didn't like the image of her racing out of the room to avoid the questions even if that was what she was doing.

**

Ron Butterfield's serious expression and long strides generally kept people from stopping him as he walked through the corridors of the White House. Of course, knowing what his job was, most people were reluctant to interfere anyway. Butterfield knew this and took full advantage. Finally reaching the Oval Office, he greeted Charlie and asked for a moment of the President's time.

"How urgent is this? I could pull him out."

"It's not life and death, but it is serious, and I'm sure he'll want to hear it right away."

Charlie nodded, and stepped through the door. When Bartlet heard who it was, he swiftly ended his meeting. Once everyone had stepped out, and he heard what Ron had to say, he had never been happier he'd ended a meeting in his life.

**

When Sam Seaborn left his apartment, there was a throng of reporters waving newspapers at him and shouting questions. He ignored the reporters and their questions, even when they accidentally' bumped into him as they crowded around his car. He knew they were taking pictures of it, and that the TV cameras would run footage of this with the words, Seaborn refused to comment running along the bottom of the screen. 

He climbed into the car and drove away. Halfway to the White House, his cell phone rang. It was CJ warning him.

"I know, CJ, I'm about to be on CNN driving away from the villagers with their torches."

"Get in here Sam."

"I'm on my way."

"Do you want to sneak in the back way, or should I have someone meet you."

Sam shook his head reflexively, barely aware that he was doing it. "No. I'll walk in the way I always do. I don't want it to look like I'm running away from this. Did they ask?"

CJ wanted to pretend she didn't know who they meant. "Yeah. I gave them the I'm looking into it' line."

Sam sighed. "Okay. I'll be there soon." He hung up.

**

As soon as Sam arrived at his office, Ginger directed him to the Oval Office. He handed her his briefcase and straightened his tie as he went. When he got there, Charlie waved him in, and pulled the door shut behind him.

Sam wasn't surprised to see CJ, Toby, Josh, and Leo, but Ron Butterfield's presence was something he would never have predicted. Startled, he nodded in greeting, and turned to face the President. "Mr. President?"

Jed smiled broadly. "Sam! Just the man we've been waiting for!"

Sam nodded, glancing around, but was able to discern nothing from the varied demeanors of his friends. CJ had a relieved, yet sad smile on her face, and he was sure he saw a tear or two standing in her eyes. Toby seemed as stoic as usual, but also emitted a vibration of relief and concern. Leo grinned broadly, and Josh wore an expression that almost had Sam looking around the room for a keg marked Glory' and Donna bringing the finest muffins and bagels in the land. Ron Butterfield stood at nearly military attention, holding a large file folder.

Puzzled, he turned back to the President. "I'm sorry. Have I missed something?"

Bartlet laughed. "I'll say you have!" He gestured to Ron. "Go ahead and fill him in."

Ron looked apologetically at CJ before beginning, and, after she graced him with a nod, he launched into his explanation.

**

The Press Room vibrated with a strange sort of controlled chaos. CJ had expertly sorted through the raised voices and raised hands to deliver her statement. After her statement, she refused questions and strode slowly from the room, savoring the difference from her last exit.

In the hall, Josh was waiting for her. He pumped his arm in the air. "YES!" Then he did a strange little dance stopping only when CJ smacked him.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Don't ever do that dance again, Josh. Especially not in front of me!"

"That was my victory dance!"

"There was nothing victorious in that dance. Laborious, maybe."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Josh, you're no dancer. Give it up. Where's Sam?"

Josh shrugged, as Donna appeared beside them and spoke to CJ. "Sam wanted to speak to you. I think he's in your office."

CJ had expected this. "Okay."

CJ turned towards her office, while Josh fell into step with Donna. "What do you think of my dancing?"

"Dancing?"

"Yeahmy littlethe Victory Dance."

"You don't know how to dance, Josh."

"I do so. What do you mean?"

Donna shrugged. "You don't know everything."

She kept walking as Josh stopped and stared after her. "I keep forgetting that."

**

CJ walked into her office almost dreading what she knew Sam would want to discuss. Sam was leaning against her desk, but when he saw her, he stood and took a step forward. "CJ"

"Don't, Sam."

Sam nodded, and for a brief moment, both Sam and CJ thought he might just turn and leave. Something stopped him. "CJdid youI meandid he"

CJ didn't want to have this conversation, so she didn't help him. She placed her briefing notes on her desk and walked around it to have a seat. Sam moved with her, keeping her in his line of sight. She stared at him when she sat, hoping he wouldn't say anything, but recognizing that as unlikely. Hoping that Sam Seaborn would not be able to speak from his heart was like hoping the world would stop turning. 

"CJ. Did you and Simon speak about this?"

CJ nodded, not trusting her voice.

"You didn't ask him"  


"No!" She wasn't sure why she'd answered him so vehemently, but it seemed important for him to know that she hadn't asked a favor of Simon. She wouldn't have been comfortable even if she had thought he could do it.

Sam stepped back, suddenly sure this was another bad idea. Imagine him making a bad move with a woman involved. "Do you know why?"

CJ stared at him. Then she shut her eyes. For a moment, her shoulders slumped and Sam watched the slight tremble through the shoulders of her white suit. When she opened them again, her eyes sparkled and shone with unshed tears. "I was raving again. I told him, it wasn't right that you were being railroaded like this. That you were being punished for your faith in your friends." She sighed and sat down, suddenly weary. "He asked me what I wanted to do about it."

She thought back to the moment, and, as she related it to Sam, she actually felt Simon Donovan's physical presence. 

__

"What do you want to do about it, CJ?"

"There's nothing I can_ do! That's the problem!"_

"I didn't ask what you could_ do. I asked what you _want_ to do."_

"I want to get them back. I want to find out who's responsible and make them pay. This is an elaborate scheme. They made a tape. They sent it to him. They knew_ how Sam would react. I want to prove to the world that Sam isn't the bad guy!"_

"Sodo it."

Her eyes had narrowed at that. "Do it. Do it? Just like that?"

"Not just like that, but do it. Find out who's behind this."

"I'm not a detective. I wouldn't know where to begin."

Simon smiled. "No. I guess not, but I guess you'd be pretty grateful to anyone who did manage it."

She smiled at him. "If you're talking about you"  


"I'm not."

"You weren't just suggesting that you'd look into this?"

"Why would I do that? I have a full time job looking after you. Where would I find the time?"

CJ stared at him for a moment, not entirely convinced.

"We're not going anywhere, cowboy. We've got time."

His eyes widened in surprise at the nickname. "Cowboy?"

She shrugged. "I try that on people sometimes. Never found anyone who could wear it."

"How did I measure up?"

CJ nodded. "It seems to fit, but"

"What?"

"I'll let you know if you should be wearing the white hat or the black hat after I see some results."

"So I keep you safe from a stalker, and that earns me nicknames and jibes but not respect?"

"It's a cruel, cruel world Special Agent Sunshine."

CJ was lost in thought for a few moments. When the silence suddenly seemed unbearable, she turned to look at Sam. He sat quietly, not pushing her, but needing to thank her. 

When she didn't say anything more, he did. "Ron told me that he came across the file folder when they were going through Simon's things. He said another agent, a friend of Simon's, Jim Davenport, volunteered to finish it so that all of Simon's cases would be closed. Even though it wasn't official."

CJ nodded. "Hewanted to help. Jim Davenport only had to tie up a few loose ends."

Sam smiled, somehow seeming sad, happy, grateful, sincere, and astonished all at once. "He _did_."

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened, and only opened them again when she was sure she could speak without crumbling. "Yeah. He did. I honestly don't know where he found the time."

"CJ, I wanted to thank youI guess because I can't thank him."

"He'd say he was just doing his job."

"We know better."

"We do."

CJ watched Sam leave her office. She knew he wanted to say more, but was glad he hadn't tried. She didn't want any more condolences. She felt almost guilty at the loss she'd felt since Ron had told her what had happened to Simon. Simon's family, his Little Brother, his co-workers and good friends, they'd lost something. CJ had lost the potential for something. The two things were quite different.

As a tear slid down her cheek, CJ promised herself that one day that argument would work.

**

****

A Few Days Later

10:00 PM

Sam walked slowly back to his office, eyes never straying from the papers he'd just pulled off the printer. 

"I hope that's not the President's statement about the FBI investigation, because you're gonna have to rewrite it."

  
Startled, Sam looked up to see Toby and Josh waiting for him. Toby stood by the window that separated his office from his deputy's. Josh sat in one of Sam's chairs managing to look rumpled in a perfectly pressed suit.

"Why? Has the FBI made another statement?" 

"They're making it now." Josh gestured to the TVs in the bullpen. "They've already begun questioning Ritchie's staff. The paper trail that Simon found was enough evidence to give them probable cause. They said that it's likely someone on Ritchie's team made the tape orhow did he put it" Josh looked to Toby for help.

"caused the tape to be made."

Sam almost laughed. 

Josh smiled. "Right. They caused the tape to be made and sent it to you hoping to ensnare a White House Employee."

"Ensnare?"

"Sure. The FBI likes words like ensnare, perpetrator, allegedly, and conspirators."

"So that's it?" Sam needed to hear someone say this was over.

Toby nodded. "This has knocked your pictures right out of the news cycles, so, yeah, that's ituntil the next time."

"You mean until I screw up again."

Toby sighed. "Not you, specifically. We seem to be good at taking turns at that. I meant that's it until the next crisis."

Sam felt too weary to nod or otherwise acknowledge his boss' words or intent. 

"Come on, guys!" Josh looked from Toby to Sam and back again. "We should be _so_ on top of the world right now. We won this round! We came out on top! The world gave us lemons and we made lemonade! We"

"We didn't do it." Sam spoke in a hushed, somber tone. 

Puzzled, Josh stared at this man he still wished to call friend. 

Toby knew just what his deputy meant. "This victory was a gift from beyond the grave."

Josh sobered instantly, suddenly not sure if a victory celebration was in order.

His confusion tripled when he heard the decidedly female voice coming from behind him. Peering over his shoulder, he saw CJ grinning.

He smiled involuntarily. "What?"

"What?" CJ answered.

"What's so funny?" 

"Not funny! Wonderful!"

"You feel like sharing?" Toby hoped this was seriously good news.

"You guys aren't watching CNN?"

"CJ, you can see we're not. Just tell us what's got you grinning like a jack o'lantern!"

"Kevin Khan just gave a press conference."

When she didn't continue, Sam spoke. "And"

"He's admitted everything."

"He has?" Josh stared at CJ. "Then he'll take the fall?"

CJ was nodding, explaining about the proceedings, and that the case would likely be moved quickly through the courts. "Public opinion is firmly in our favor. Sam's well-liked, and people hate it when politicians play dirty."

Sam listened to the cheerful banter of his colleagues, and was, in all honesty, pleased that his reputation had been restored. It was that Kevin had taken the fall that shook him. His relief that the Bartlet reelection campaign finally seemed to be moving in the right direction warred with his sympathy for Kevin. Justifying what had happened and the part he'd played in it didn't take long when he recalled Kevin's own hand in the videotape debacle. When he'd first embarked on a career in politics, Sam had believed the need to do something that would benefit the country would never be hindered by the need to come out on top. Now, after everything they'd been through this past year, he wasn't sure of anything. 

**

  
**Late That Evening**

Sam Seaborn parked his car a half-block from his apartment, glad for the lack of rain, which had threatened that morning. The clear, warm night belied any thoughts of rain or storm from earlier in the day, and Sam savored the short walk to his door. It had been a good day. The President's approval rating had jumped several points and was still rising. Polls indicated that most of the public was sympathetic towards both the President and Sam for having been targeted by a conspiracy to discredit them.

Ritchie had had to backpedal through some comments he'd made just that morning, when he'd attempted to ridicule Bartlet and his people only to be given a lukewarm reception. Cornered by one reporter, and spurred by the negative reaction to his disparaging opinions of Bartlet and his Administration, he'd admitted to a grudging respect for the President and his staff. Pressing the point, the reporter managed to get the Governor to say that Sam Seaborn in particular was an upstanding and honorable young man. 

  
Sam and the rest of the staff, as well as President Bartlet, knew that the admiration and respect Ritchie had claimed was a lie. Ritchie hated Bartlet, and likely despised his staff.

He brought his thoughts back to his surroundings and noticed a dark figure standing by the steps of his apartment. The man didn't even have to turn to face him for Sam to recognize him. When Sam was close enough, he decided to speak first, not sure if the other man had seen his approach. 

"Kevin." The way Sam said it, it was neither greeting nor question.

Kevin whirled to face Sam, and, once he recognized the White House Deputy, his face contorted into stark hatred. "Sam Seaborn. Just look at you."

Unsure of what Kevin was trying to say, Sam remained silent.

"Quite a little bag of tricks you have up your sleeve. Somehow, you came out of this smelling like a rose." He made a point of inhaling deeply. "Up close, it's more like manure isn't it?"

"What did you want Kevin?" 

"What do you think?"

"An apology would be nice."

Kevin sneered. "I bet. If you don't get it, are you going to get the FBI to look into something else?"

"Your little conspiracy was uncovered by the Secret Service, and I had nothing to do with it."

"Just like you had nothing to do with the open mike?"

"It was a mistake."

"Crap!"

"Kevin, I don't know what to tell you. I didn't have anything to do with the open mike. It was a mistake. I didn't have anything to do with the Secret Service"

"Right. That was CJ Cregg, wasn't it?" He took a step away, then lunged forward again, startling Sam with the suddenness of his moves. "CJ and her boy toy Secret Service Agent. What did she have to do to get that investigation started?"

Sam grabbed Kevin by the lapels. The anger evident on his face provided an eerie contrast for his soft, calm voice, which, somehow, emphasized the menace. "You don't make an insinuation like that about her again, or you'll be on a liquid diet for a month."

Wrenching himself from Sam's grasp, Kevin tried to keep his own focus away from the passion in Sam's eyes. Sam did not back down. Instead, he stepped forward, keeping himself in Kevin's personal space, only millimeters from the political operative. 

"You got beat. Face it. You don't deserve any explanations from me about how or why. You know that already anyway. Somewhere inside you, you know that I was trying to be above board with you about the tape. If you don't, then, Kevin, it's time to leave Washington, because you've become what you always said you wouldn't. You're a small-minded, suspicious, cold-hearted _politician_." Sam emphasized the word as he and Kevin once had to illustrate what they considered an inherent difference. There were politicians, and then there were politicians.

Kevin's surprise at Sam's words showed plainly on his face, but his sneer soon returned. "Look who's talking! That thing had your fingerprints all over it!"

"I told you it was a mistake!"

"Not the open mike! The debate."

"Your candidate asked for the debate."

"He was manipulated."

Sam took a step forward forcing Kevin to take a step back. A cold, hard smile, seemingly out of place on his strong, handsome face, lent a heartless gleam to Sam's eyes. "Yes, he was. Is it gonna happen again? I think it will."

At a loss for words, Sam's ex-friend stepped back, looking as if he'd like nothing more than to hit Sam. With visible effort, he turned and walked away. 

Sam stared after him. When Kevin climbed into a car and drove away, Sam forced himself to go into his apartment.

After so much time at the office and on the road, his apartment often looked foreign to him. This was no exception. He threw his briefcase on the floor and moved to the kitchen trying to decide if he should make coffee or settle for a glass of water and a retreat to his bed. 

Deciding against the caffeine, he got some water, and made his way to his bedroom. Preparing for bed, he got a glimpse of himself in the mirror. What he saw surprised him. He was tired, certainly, and that showed in his eyes, but it was a good tired. The kind of tired you got when you accomplished somethingthe kind of tired he hadn't felt in a long time. What surprised him was not physical fatigue, but the lack of the perennial soul weariness, the shattered, betrayed, morose, kick-me-when-I'm-down feelings that had plagued him. He realized he had some hope for the future. He realized that, even though he'd thought at various times that he would crumble, that he was crumbling, he had survived. No matter what else happened, he would be okay.

He inhaled enjoying the physicality of the action as only a man pleased with himself can. It had been a rough year, and an even rougher summer. Now, he felt strong. He felt lighter, somehow, unburdened. "Ira furor brevis est." He whispered the phrase to his reflection. 

Sam crawled into bed, whispering a translation to the Latin phrase that had popped, unbidden into his mind. "Anger is a brief madness." Settling back into the pillow, he reveled in his brief madness, and his recent recovery. Just as he drifted off to sleep, he whispered, "I'm up off the dirt." For the first time in months, Sam Seaborn slept peacefully.

  
  
End


End file.
